The Painted Lady by Barbara Metzger

Author:Barbara Metzger [Metzger, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 2001-09-04T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

He stayed one day longer than scheduled, because it was sleeting. And because he did not want to leave.

“I have found peace of mind here, and a friend,” Kasey told Lilyanne as they walked toward the stable, where his horses were waiting. He’d made his farewells to Sir Osgood earlier, with appreciation. Whether or not the man’s ideas were as buffle-headed as a brick canoe, Kasey had never felt better. Lady Catherine had waved her handkerchief from the steps, along with her solicitor’s address, the duke having again promised to look into the legalities of her situation. He’d left vails with all the servants, and his pocket watch with Little Henry. He’d left a sheaf of paintings for Lilyanne, her favorite flowers and scenes, but the ones of her, all but the girl in the field of flowers, those he had in his satchel, for himself.

“And I have learned to knit.” Kasey wrapped a woolen scarf around her neck, a very long, amateurishly stitched, ragged-edged scarf of undyed wool. The ends trailed down Lilyanne’s shoulders, even with the scarf wrapped twice. “I wonder which is the greatest treasure.”

She clutched it to herself, like a lifeline. “I... I made something for you, also, to remember us by.”

“As if I would forget.”

Lilyanne handed him a small striped pouch of fine-knit yarn, every stripe a different color. “No, don’t open it,” she said when he would have pulled at the drawstrings. “Smell it.”

Lavender and roses, verbena and—Kasey could never identify them all. The sachet smelled of sunshine and forests and minted teas and Lilyanne. “Ah,” was all he said.

“The scent will last a long while if you keep it in your drawer or among your bed linens.”

He tucked it into his inside pocket, next to his heart.

The horses were stamping in their traces, and two grooms were struggling to hold them.

“I have to leave.”

Lilyanne wrapped her fingers in the wool scarf. “Yes.”

“I dare not stay longer. Your reputation ...”

She nodded. “I know. Catherine warned me that people are starting to talk. Uncle Osgood sees only what he wishes, but others see the worst in any situation, especially in a small village like this, with not much of interest except the doings of the neighbors.”

“It would be worse in London. Why, if I so much as held your hand”—he took both of them now, between his own larger, gloved hands—”people in Town would comment. They are like pigs, rooting around for the least morsel of gossip. Lud, I do not want to return there.”

“Then don’t stay in the city. You have country properties, you told me yourself. Go, find a pretty place to paint, find people who will cherish your talent. And you.” Lilyanne could not say more, not with the lump in her throat, which must be from the scarf being wound too tightly.

“And you, I pray you find happiness with someone worthy of your beauty. Not the outward appearance, but the goodness and purity inside you. By heaven, if only I could offer—”

Lilyanne freed her hands to place trembling fingers over Kasey’s lips.

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